March 25th, 2008


Oh Woe is Me (With Much Wringing of Hands)

Judy seems to think I have karma to spare and that I bring her good karma when I visit. The chickens might agree about my karma, but they might not agree that it's good. Unless they're being reincarnated as higher beings, that is. I'm not sure the chickens are volunteering for their jobs as Bringers-of-Rain. But then again, what do I know? For all I know, being a sacrifice to either your coop-mates or humans may be the highest goal a chicken can attain.

Sic transit Featherless Biped #1. The Dude has laid her to rest in the dry vernal pond in hopes of bringing rain as her sisters did, Anya and the rest. Six big girls remain.

Let's just brush over the details, shall we? No? Well, I went to the coop at 8 this morning on an empty stomach and for the second time in 2 days was 1 chicken short in my count. But this time I knew the door was latched properly. I turned around and searched to find a feathered, headless, carcass behind me on the floor. Ugh. And yes, I bagged it. With gloves. And then threw pine shavings everywhere because, well, there were these long pieces of...

Chickens just aren't nice at times.

A quick sigh of relief that both Walkabout and Gimpy were up on the top rung where they belonged. And a glare at Featherless Biped #2 who was down on a lower rung and trying to look as if she were completely innocent of cannibalism. Indeed.

And if that isn't a horror story, I don't know what is.

Frog Out